


C.I.D. Manchester, or the Guv that loved a D.I.

by gritsinmisery



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Gilbert and Sullivan, Multi, Parody
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-09-19
Updated: 2008-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-06 20:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gritsinmisery/pseuds/gritsinmisery
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A parody of Gilbert & Sullivan's <em>HMS Pinafore</em>, or a very different version of 2x08.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> Some of Gene's favorite epithets for homosexuals are used.
> 
> "Chapter 2" is Act II.
> 
> "Chapter 3" is A/N, for explanations of WTF I did here. If you already know this operetta, you probably want to read this first before you spend half of your time reading this thinking, "But where did _____ go?"
> 
> If you've never heard _HMS Pinafore_ before, there's good audio [here](https://archive.org/details/GILBERTSULLIVANH.M.S.Pinafore1949-NEWTRANSFER). If you're listening as you read, skip from 1:15 to 3:00 of "Over the bright blue sea," all of "The hours creep on apace," and bits and pieces elsewhere. Sorry.

                    C.I.D. Manchester

                               OR

                  The Guv that loved a D.I.

                Libretto by William S. Gilbert  
                Warped by GRITS in Misery  


                       DRAMATIS PERSONAE

D.C.I. Frank Morgan, (Metropolitan Accountability and Reconciliation Strategy, disguised as C Division  C.I.D.)  
D.C.I. Gene Hunt (A Division C.I.D.)  
D.I. Sam Tyler (A Division C.I.D.)  
D.C.I. Litton (R.C.S.)  
D.S. Ray Carling (A Division C.I.D.)  
D.C Chris Skelton (A Division C.I.D.)  
W.P.C. Annie Cartwright (C Division, serving as Morgan’s assistant)  
Desk Sergeant Phyllis Dobbs (A Division)

C.I.D. Squad

     Scene: C.I.D. Squad Room OF Manchester A Division

                ACT I.-- Noon.  ACT II.-- Night  
   
                             ACT I

SCENE – Squad room of C.I.D., A Division, Manchester.  Detectives discovered smoking, drinking coffee, reading girly magazines, throwing paper wads at each other, messing w/ a football, etc.

                         CHORUS -- SQUAD

               We police this northern town,  
               And our squad room’s always smoky;  
               We’ll take the blaggers down,  
               And clap them in the pokey.  
               When the crims dash about  
               We run and shout,  
               And stand in the way of harm;  
               When it’s beer-o-clock  
               On the door we knock  
               Of our pub, the Railroad Arms.

Enter Desk Sgt. Phyllis Dobbs, with a pile of files in her arms

                           RECITATIVE

     Oi, C.I.D.’s men – shift your lazy selves  
     Here are the case files for everyone in the cells;  
     Now earn your pay – and your chips from the canteen.  
     Go out there and get our town’s streets clean.

                              ARIA

For I'm called the front Desk Sergeant -- dearest of Desk Sergeants,  
     To earn it I really did try,  
So now I'm called Desk Sergeant -- poor little Desk Sergeant,  
     Sweet Little Desk Sergeant I!

Then obey your Desk Sergeant -- dearest of Desk Sergeants;  
     No one should ever sneak by;  
So, obey your Desk Sergeant -- poor little Desk Sergeant;  
     Don’t make your Desk Sergeant cry!

     RAY CARLING. Aye, Desk Sergeant -- and well called -- for you're the bitchiest, the bossiest, and the brassiest bird in all A-Division.  
     DOBBS.  Brassy, am I? and bossy -- and bitchy!  Maybe, for I have survived in this job a long time!  But oi, my fuzzy friend – did you ever think that beneath a brassy and bossy exterior there may lurk a canker-worm which is slowly but surely eating its way into one's very heart?  
     RAY.  No, you daft bird, I can't say I've ever thought that.

Enter PONCY-ARSE LITTON.  He pushes through policemen, and comes down

     LITTON.  I have thought it often.  (All recoil from him.)  
     DOBBS.  Yes, you look like it!  What's the matter with the man?  Isn't he well?  
     CARLING.  Don't take no heed of him; that's only poor Poncy-Arse Litton from R.C.S.  
     LITTON.  I say -- it's a beast of a name, ain't it -- Poncy-Arse Litton?  
     DOBBS.  It's not a nice name.  
     LITTON.  I've an ugly ‘tache too, ain't I?  
     DOBBS.  It is certainly scraggly.  
     LITTON.  And I'm stinky too, ain't I?  
     DOBBS.  You are rather smelly, is that Paco Rabbane?  
     LITTON.  Ha! Ha! That's it.  I'm an attention-seeker, and they hate me for it; for you all hate me, don't you?  
     ALL.  We do!  
     LITTON.  There!  
     RAY.  Well, Litton, we wouldn't go for to hurt any fellow-creature's feelings, but you can't expect a chap with such a name as Poncy-Arse Litton to be a popular character -- now can you?  
     LITTON.  No.  
     CHRIS SKELTON.  It's asking too much, ain't it?  
     LITTON.  It is.  From such a face and form as mine the noblest sentiments sound like the black utterances of a depraved imagination.  It is human nature -- I am resigned.

                           RECITATIVE

DOBBS.  (looking at doorway).  
          But, tell me -- who's the scrawny bloke whose faltering feet  
               With difficulty bear him on his course?  
CHRIS.     That is the smartest Boss in all C.I.D.--  
                      D.I. Sam Tyler!

DOBBS.                          Ha!  That name!  Remorse! Remorse!

Enter SAM TYLER

                       MADRIGAL -- SAM

                         My Mobile Phone  
                    Sighs for the cell tower array  
                         And tells his tale  
                    In his own melodious way!  
                    He rang "Ah, well-a-day!"

ALL.                He rang "Ah, well-a-day!"

                         The lowly DVD  
                    For its player vainly sighed,  
                         To his humble wail  
                    The echoing tellies replied.  
                         They sang "Ah, well-a-day!"

ALL.                     They sang "Ah, well-a-day!"

                      RECITATIVE -- SAM

               I know the value of a kindly chorus,  
                    But choruses yield little consolation  
               When we have pain and sorrow too before us!  
                    I love -- and love, alas, within my station!

DOBBS (aside).   He loves -- and loves someone within this station!  
ALL (aside).   Yes, yes, someone here within this station!

                                            Exit Sgt. DOBBS

                        BALLAD -- SAM

                    A man’s man is he,  
                    Rough and tough to see,  
                         And not exactly a beauty;  
                    He gets the tough job done,  
                    Carries a heavy gun;  
                         He always does his duty.

ALL.                     He always does his duty.

                    A suitor, future borne,  
                    With hopeless passion torn,  
                         And mad beyond denying,  
                    Has dared himself to seat  
                    At whose exalted feet  
                         All C.I.D. is sighing.

ALL.                     All C.I.D. is sighing.

                    Unlearned he in aught  
                    Save that which evidence taught  
                         (For rules have been his tutor);  
                    Oh, pity, pity me--  
                    Our Gene Genie is he,  
                         And I that lowly suitor!

ALL.                     And he that lowly suitor!

     RAY.  Oi, you Nancy-boy, you're looking the wrong direction: our worthy Guv won't have nothin' to say to a poofter chap like you.  Will he, lads?  
     ALL.  No, no.  
     LITTON.  No, no, D.C.I.s don't fall in love with their D.I.s.  
     ALL (recoiling from him).  Shame! shame!  
     CHRIS.  Poncy-Arse Litton, them sentiments o' yourn are a disgrace to our common natur'.  
     SAM.  But it's a strange anomaly, that the man who has an office with blinds may not love another who sits right outside it.  For a man is but a man, whether he hoists a flask from his coat pocket or his charts and files in Collating.  
     LITTON.  Ah, it's a queer world!  
     SAM.  Poncy-Arse Litton, I have no desire to press hardly on you, but such a revolutionary sentiment is enough to make a C.I.D. copper shudder.  
     RAY.  My lads, our gallant Guv has come out of his office; let us greet him as so brave an officer and so gallant a copper deserves.

Enter D.C.I. Gene Hunt

                  RECITATIVE -- HUNT and SQUAD

HUNT.               My lazy squad, good morning.  
ALL (saluting).          Guv, good morning!  
HUNT.               I’m sure you're all hung over.  
ALL (as before).         As usual; and you, Guv?  
HUNT.               I’ve had a bacon butty, and coffee,  
                           And I’m ready to bust some heads!  
ALL (as before).         You do us proud, Guv!

                        SONG -- HUNT

HUNT.          I am the Guv’nor of the C.I.D.;  
ALL.                    And a damn good Guv’nor, too!  
HUNT.         Clues you only find with luck,  
                     You forget sometimes to duck,  
                            I command a bumbling crew,  
ALL.             Clues we only find with luck,  
                      We forget sometimes to duck,  
                            He commands a bumbling crew.  
HUNT.        Sure as my name is Hunt,  
                    I lead you from the front,  
                         And get you home for tea;  
                    I hold my liquor well  
                    Dirty tales I do tell,  
                         And I never, never sick-up, me!  
ALL.                          What, never?  
HUNT.                              No, never!  
ALL.                          What, never?  
HUNT.                              Hardly ever!  
ALL.        He hardly ever sicks-up, he!  
                 Then give three cheers, and more cheers three,  
                 For the hardy Guv’nor of the C.I.D.!

HUNT.             I do my best to bum booze off you all--  
ALL.                      At the pub our money’s spent.  
HUNT.             You're at the place all night,  
                              And I think it only right  
                              That I get some refreshments.  
ALL.                We're at the place all night,  
                              And he thinks it's only right  
                             That he gets some refreshments.  
HUNT.             Bad language and abuse,  
                               I usually use,  
                         When talking to a witness key;  
                               ‘Though out you may be shoo’ed  
                               To fetch me smokes and food,  
                          No one ever drives my car but me!  
ALL.            What, never?  
HUNT.                              No, never!  
ALL.                          What, never?  
HUNT.                              Hardly ever!  
ALL.       Hardly ever drives the car but he…  
               Then give three cheers, and more cheers three,  
               For the pushy Guv’nor of the C.I.D.!  
                              [After song exeunt all but HUNT]

Enter Sgt. Dobbs

               RECITATIVE -- DOBBS and CAPT.

DOBBS.      Sir, you are sad!  I have to tell you that  
          Your eyes are bright red and watery,  
          And not just because you’ve been smoking;  
          Confide in me -- fear not -- I am a sergeant!

HUNT.     Yes, Sgt. Dobbs, I'm sad and sorry--  
          My D.I., Samuel Tyler, the looniest git  
          That ever stumbled into my squad room,  
          Is sought for transfer by D.C.I. Frank Morgan,  
          Another picky-pain from Hyde, but for some reason  
          Sam does not seem to tackle kindly to it.

DOBBS. (with emotion).  Ah, poor D.C.I. Morgan!   
          Ah, I know too well  
          What a pain it is to get someone transferred!  
          But see, here comes your scrawny and loony D.I.  
          I go -- Farewell!                            [Exit.

HUNT. (looking after her).  That bird’s a total nutter!   [Exit.

Enter Sam Tyler, twining some biros between his fingers

                      BALLAD -- SAM

          Sorry his lot who loves too well,  
               Heavy the heart that hopes but vainly,  
          Sad are the sighs that own the spell,  
               Uttered by eyes that speak too plainly;  
                    Heavy the sorrow that bows the head  
                    When love is alive and hope is dead!

          Sad is the hour when sets the sun--  
               Dark is the night, and in Manchester, smelly,  
          When to his flat the wearied one  
               Flies, to be met by the girl on the telly!  
                    Heavy the sorrow that bows the head  
                    When love is alive and hope is dead!

Enter Hunt

     HUNT.  My picky-pain D.I., you shouldn’t be moping about.  Better get bright, for D.C.I. Frank Morgan from Hyde will be here this afternoon to claim your Nancy-boy arse as a transferee.  
     SAM.  Ah, Guv, your words cut me to the quick.  I can esteem -- reverence -- venerate D.C.I. Morgan, for he is a great and good man; but oh, I cannot go with him!  My heart given to one in A Division.  
     HUNT. (aside).  Christ, I thought as much.  (Aloud.)  Given?  To who?  Not to some plonk?  
     SAM.  No, Guv -- the object of my love is not a plonk, or even a canteen lady.  Oh, pity me, for he is an officer within this very station!  
     HUNT.  Impossible!  
     SAM.  Yes, it is true -- too true.  
     HUNT.  An officer?  Shut it!  
     SAM.  I blush for the weakness that allows me to cherish such a passion.  I hate myself when I think of the depth to which I have stooped in permitting myself to think tenderly of one of my own gender, but I love him!  I love him!  I love him!  (Weeps.)  
     HUNT.  Here, ya poofter, let’s talk this over.  When it comes to love I wouldn’t lean on one of my squad -- I don’t give a rat’s arse about class or money, but the line must be drawn somewhere.  Any man in this station is a good ‘un, but admit to fudge-packing and you both would end yer careers and wind up in the gaol, bending over for swarthy murderers.  
     SAM.  Oh, I have thought of this night and day.  But fear not, Guv, I have a heart, and therefore I love; but I am a D.I., and therefore I am proud.  Though I carry my love with me to the tomb, he shall never, never know it.  
     HUNT.  You are a copper after all.  Oh hell, Morgan’s car is here.  Go hide and straighten your face, Sammy-boy, in the back of the squad room -- take his photo with ya, he ain’t a bad looking bloke -- it may help you get used to the idea of working for him again.  
     SAM.  My own thoughtful Guv!

[Tyler moves to the back of the room.  Hunt remains up front.

BARCAROLLE. (invisible)  
                 WPC ANNIE CARTWRIGHT, MORGAN’S ASSISTANT

                    With inestimable pride  
               Comes D.C.I. Morgan, of Hyde  
                    Wherever he may go  
               Bang-bang: down bent coppers go!  
                    Shout when you see his ride  
               For D.C.I. Morgan, of Hyde

[During this the Squad have entered

                       CHORUS OF C.I.D.

               Frank Morgan’s car is near,  
                    We know he looks for trouble,  
               We’ll behave while he is here,  
                    And after, order doubles.  
               We police, we police this northern town,  
                   And our squad room’s always smoky;  
               We’ll take, we’ll take the blaggers down,  
                   And clap them in the pokey.  
               We're smart and sneaky blokes,  
                    And quite devoid of fe-ar,  
               This Morgan guy’s a joke,  
                    He’s not as smart as we are.

Enter Frank Morgan with WPC Annie Cartwright

                      SONG  --  FRANK MORGAN

                             I run Hyde’s C.I.D.,  
                        But that’s just a disguise for me,  
               I search out rule-breakers at every chance.  
ANNIE.   And he’s always looking to get in my pants!  
SQUAD.     And he’s always looking to get in her pants!  
MORGAN.         I’m in Accountability,  
                    We police the police, you see,  
               And I spy using personnel that I transplant.  
ANNIE.     And he’s always looking to get in my pants!  
SQUAD.           And he’s always looking to get in her pants!  
                                Yes, he’s always looking,  
                          ‘Cause he’s certain something’s cooking  
                                 In her pants!

        SONG  --  FRANK MORGAN

     When I was a lad I joined the force  
     And I did my best work indoors, of course.  
     I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor,  
     And I polished up the handle of the big front door.  
          I polished up that handle so carefullee  
          That now I am D.C.I.: Hyde C.I.D.!

                  CHORUS. -- He polished, etc.

     As office plod I made such a mark  
     That they put me on the front desk to clerk.  
     I assigned the cells with a smile so bland,  
     And I marked case files in a big round hand--  
          I marked case files in a hand so free,  
         That now I am D.C.I.: Hyde C.I.D.!

                   CHORUS. -- He marked, etc.

     In serving writs I made such a name  
     That a new D.C. I soon became;  
     I wore clean boxers and a brand-new suit  
     For the pass examination at the Institute,  
          And that pass examination did so well for me,  
         That now I am D.C.I.: Hyde C.I.D.!

           CHORUS. -- And that pass examination, etc.

      I knew so many rules that they sent me  
     To Metropolitan Accountibility (shhhhh).  
     I always agreed with my boss’s call,  
     And I never thought of breaking any rules at all.  
          I thought so little, they rewarded me  
         And now I am D.C.I.: Hyde C.I.D.!

             CHORUS. -- He thought so little, etc.

     Now coppers all, whoever you may be,  
     If you want to rise to the top of the tree,  
     It’s better to be proper and to be seen as cruel,  
     Make certain you squeal when someone breaks the rules,  
          Stay off of the streets and never go to tea,  
          And you all may be D.C.I. of a C.I.D.!

                  CHORUS. – Stay off of the streets, etc.

     MORGAN.  You've a remarkably fine squad, D.C.I. Hunt.  
     HUNT.  It is a fine crew, D.C.I. Morgan. (all his remarks mock Morgan)  
     MORGAN. (examining a very small D.C.).  A British copper is a splendid fellow, D.C.I. Hunt.  
     HUNT.  A splendid fellow indeed, D.C.I. Morgan.  
     MORGAN.  I hope you treat your squad kindly, D.C.I. Hunt.  
     HUNT.  Indeed I hope so, D.C.I. Morgan.  
     MORGAN.  Never forget that they are the bulwarks of England's greatness, D.C.I. Hunt.  
     HUNT.  So I have always considered them, D.C.I. Morgan.  
     MORGAN.  No bullying, I trust -- no strong language of any kind, eh?  
     HUNT.  Oh, never, D.C.I. Morgan.  
     MORGAN.  What, never?  
     HUNT.  Hardly ever, D.C.I. Morgan.  They are an excellent squad, and do their work thoroughly without it.  
     MORGAN.  Don't patronise them, sir -- pray, don't patronise them.  
     HUNT.  Certainly not, D.C.I. Morgan.  
     MORGAN.  That you are their commanding officer is an accident of birthdate.  I cannot permit these noble fellows to be patronized because an accident of birthdate has placed you above them and them below you.  
     HUNT.  I am the last person to insult a British copper, D.C.I. Morgan.  
     MORGAN.  You are the last person who did, D.C.I. Hunt.  Desire that splendid detective to step forward.

                      (Litton comes forward)

     MORGAN.  No, no, the other splendid detective.  
     HUNT.  Ray Carling, get yer lazy arse up here!  
     MORGAN (sternly).  If what?  
     HUNT.  I beg your pardon -- I don't think I understand you.  
     MORGAN.  If you please.  
     HUNT.  Oh, yes, of course.  If you please.  (Ray steps forward.)  
     MORGAN.  You're a remarkably fine fellow.  
     RAY.  Yes, sir.  
     MORGAN.   And a first-rate detective, I'll be bound.  
     RAY.  There's not a tougher detective in all Manchester's forces, your honour, though I say it who shouldn't.  
     MORGAN.  Not at all.  Proper self-respect, nothing more.  Now tell me -- don't be afraid -- how does your D.C.I. treat you, eh?  
     RAY.  A better Guv don't exist, sir.  
     ALL.  Aye; Aye!  
     MORGAN.  Good.  I like to hear you speak well of your commanding officer; I daresay he don't deserve it, but still it does you credit.  Can you sing?  
     RAY.  I can hum a little, your honour.  
     MORGAN.  Then hum this at your leisure.  (Giving him MS. music.)  It is a song that I have composed for the use of the police force.  It is designed to encourage independence of thought and action in the lower branches of the service, and to teach the principle that a British copper is any man's equal, excepting mine.  Now, D.C.I. Hunt, a word with you in your office, about that transferee I requested.  
     HUNT.  Certainly, D.C.I. Morgan.  (Crossing)  D.S Carling, to celebrate D.C.I. Morgan’s visit, see that a round goes on my tab at the Arms tonight.  
     RAY.  Beg pardon.  If what, your honour?  
     HUNT.  If what?  I don't think I understand you.  
     RAY.  If you please, your honour.  
     HUNT.  What!  
     MORGAN.  The gentleman is quite right.  If you please.  
     HUNT. (stamping his foot impatiently).  If you please!       
                                                           [Exit.  
[Exeunt MORGAN and ANNIE

     CHRIS.  Ah!  D.C.I. Morgan's a true gentleman; courteous and considerate to the very humblest.  
     SAM.  True, Chris, but we are not the very humblest.  D.C.I. Morgan has explained our true position to us.  As he says, a British copper is any man's equal excepting his, and if Morgan says that, is it not our duty to believe him?  
     ALL.  Well spoke! Well spoke!  
     LITTON.  You're on a wrong tack, and so is he.  He means well, but he don't know.  When people have to obey other people's orders, equality's out of the question.  
     ALL (recoiling).  Horrible! Horrible!  
     RAY.  Poncy-Arse Litton, if you go for to infuriate this here squad's company too far, I won't answer for being able to hold 'em in.  I'm shocked! That's what I am -- shocked!  
     SAM.  Squad, my mind's made up.  I'll speak to the Guv, and tell him, like an honest man, of the honest love I have for him.  
     ALL.  Aye, aye!  
     SAM.  Is not my love as good as another's?  Is not my heart as true as another's?  Have I not hands and eyes and ears and limbs like another?  
     ALL.  Aye, Aye!  
     SAM.  True, I lack rank--  
     RAY.  You were rank enough in the bogs this morning.  
     SAM.  Well said -- I had forgotten that.  Squad -- what do you say?  Do you approve my determination?  
     ALL.  We do.  
     LITTON.  I don t.  
     CHRIS.  What is to be done with this here hopeless chap?  Let us sing him the song that D.C.I. Morgan has kindly composed for us.  Perhaps it will bring this here miserable creetur to a proper state of mind.

    GLEE! -- SAM, RAY, CHRIS, and CHORUS

          A British copper’s a soaring soul,  
               As free as a mountain bird,  
          His energetic fist should be ready to resist  
               A dictatorial word.  
          His nose should pant and his lip should curl,  
          His cheeks should flame and his brow should furl,  
          His bosom should heave and his heart should glow,  
          And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow.  
        CHORUS. -- His nose should pant, etc.

          His eyes should flash with an inborn fire,  
               His brow with scorn be wrung;  
          He never should bow down to a domineering frown,  
               Or the tang of a tyrant tongue.  
          His foot should stamp and his throat should growl,  
          His hair should twirl and his face should scowl;  
          His eyes should flash and his breast protrude,  
          And this should be his customary attitude -- (pose).  
        CHORUS. -- His foot should stamp, etc.

[All dance off except Sam, who remains, leaning pensively against a support column.

Enter Hunt from office

     SAM.  It is useless -- D.C.I. Morgan's attentions nauseate me.  I know that he is a truly great and good man, for he told me so himself, but to me he seems tedious, fretful, and dictatorial.  Yet his must be a mind of no common order, or he would not dare to teach my dear Guv to use a tape recorder in witness interviews.  (Sees Hunt.)  Guv!  (Overcome by emotion.)  
     HUNT. Is that you, Tyler?  
     SAM.  Aye, Guv -- no other than poor Sam Tyler!  
     HUNT. (aside).  This git gives me the horn!  (Aloud)  And why poor, Sam?  
     SAM.  I am poor in the essence of happiness, Guv – rich only in never-ending unrest.  In me there meet a combination of antithetical elements which are at eternal war with one another.  Driven hither by objective influences -- thither by subjective emotions -- wafted one moment into blazing day, by mocking hope -- plunged the next into the Cimmerian darkness of tangible despair, I am but a living ganglion of irreconcilable antagonisms.  I hope I make myself clear, Guv?  
     HUNT.  As mud, Tyler.  (Aside.)  I could listen to him blather all day, even if he don’t make no sense.  Oh, if I dared -- but no, the thought is madness!   (Aloud.)  Speak English, Tyler, yer making an arse of yerself.  Come on, make an effort.  
     SAM (aside).  I will -- one.  (Aloud.)  Gene!  
     HUNT. (indignantly).  Whut!?  Try ‘Guv,’ D.I. Tyler.  
     SAM.  Aye, even though Jove's armoury were launched at the head of the audacious mortal whose lips, unhallowed by relationship, dared to breathe that precious word, yet would I breathe it once, and then perchance be silent evermore.  Gene, in one brief breath I will concentrate the hopes, the doubts, the anxious fears of six weary months.  Gene, I am your D.I., and I love you!  
     HUNT.  Say whut?  (Aside.)  Oh damn, now how am I supposed to keep my hands off him?  (Aloud.)  This amazing cheek on the part of a common D.I.!  (Aside.)  Common! Oh, the irony of the word!  (Crossing, aloud.)  Oi, div, you forget that I’m your commanding officer.  And that we’re both blokes.  
     SAM.  I forget nothing, haughty Guv.  I love you desperately, my life is in your hand -- I lay it at your feet!   Give me hope, and what I lack in swearing and ability to hold my liquor, that I will endeavour to acquire.  Drive me to despair, and in death alone I shall look for consolation.  I am proud and cannot stoop to implore.  I have spoken and I wait your word.  
     HUNT.  You won’t wait long.  Your so-called love I toss in the tip like a butty wrapper.  Go, you fairy, and learn to cast your eyes on some plonk in Hyde – and keep them off your D.C.I.!

                   DUET--HUNT and SAM

HUNT.     Refrain, audacious Sam,  
                    Your suit from pressing,  
                Remember, I’m a man,  
                    And you’re a D.C.I. addressing!  
(Aside.)    I'd laugh my rank to scorn  
                    In union holy,  
               Were he a woman born  
                    And I more lowly!  
SAM.       Proud Guv’nor, have your way,  
                    Unfeeling beast!  
               You speak and I obey,  
                    My courtship ceased!  
                I am a mere D.I.  
                    And lost in time,  
               To love another guy  
                    Is currently a crime!  
(Aside.)   My heart with anguish torn  
                    Bows down before him,  
               He laughs my love to scorn,  
                    Yet I adore him!

   [Repeat refrain, ensemble, then exit Hunt into office.

SAM. (Recit.)     Can I survive this overbearing  
                    Or live a life of mad despairing,  
                    My proffered love despised, rejected?  
                    No, no, it's not to be expected!  
                                   (Calling off.)  
                    Squad, you tossers!  
                    Come here!  Come here!

Enter C.I.D. Squad

ALL.            Whatchur, Boss,  
               What cheer, what cheer?  
                    Now tell us, pray,  
                    Without delay,  
                    What does he say--  
               What cheer, what cheer?  
      
SAM (to Chris).  
          The Guv treats my suit with scorn,  
               Rejects my humble gift, my D.C.  
          He says I am ignobly born,  
               And cuts my hopes adrift, my D.C.

ALL.                       Oh, cruel one.

LITTON.     He spurns your suit?  Oho! Oho!  
              I told you so, I told you so.

SAM.    My friends, my leave of life I'm taking,  
          For oh, my heart, my heart is breaking;  
          When I am gone, oh, prithee tell  
          The Guv that, as I died, I loved him well!

ALL (turning away, weeping).  
          Of life, alas! his leave he's taking,  
          For ah! his faithful heart is breaking;  
          When he is gone we'll surely tell  
          His Guv that, as he died, he loved him well.

[During Chorus RAY has loaded pistol, which he hands to SAM.

SAM.   Be warned, my squad all  
               Don’t love the man above you--  
          For Gene Genie I fall!

[Puts pistol to his head.  All the policemens stop their ears.  
Enter Hunt on deck

HUNT.             Oi! Drop the shooter -- I love you!  
ALL.                 Oi! Drop the shooter -- he loves you!  
SAM. (incredulously). Loves me?  
HUNT.                           Loves you!  
ALL.                Yes, yes -- ah, yes, he loves you!

                            ENSEMBLE

              Hunt, Tyler, and C.I.D.

               Oh joy, oh rapture unforeseen,  
               For now the sky is all serene;  
               The god of day -- the orb of love--  
               Has hung his ensign high above,  
                    The sky is all ablaze.

               With wooing words and loving song,  
               We'll chase the lagging hours along,  
               And if I/we find the copper coy,  
               I'll/We'll murmur forth decorous joy  
                    In dreamy roundelays!

                          PONCY-ARSE LITTON

               He thinks he's won his Genie Gene,  
               But though the sky is now serene,  
               A frowning thunderbolt above  
               May end their ill-assorted love  
                    Which now is all ablaze.

               Frank Morgan, ere the day is gone,  
               Will be extremely down upon  
               The wicked men who art employ  
               To make his Sammy-boy less coy  
                    In many various ways.

HUNT.      We’ll have a fight,  
SAM.            There in the pub.  
HUNT.               We will each creep  
SAM.         Into the night,  
HUNT.           They’ll think the Guv’s  
SAM.                  Gone home to sleep  
HUNT.       But I’ll come ‘round  
SAM.               To my sad flat  
HUNT.                And shag you blind,  
SAM.          I’ve finally found  
HUNT.             The one bloke that  
SAM.                  Can ease my mind!  
ALL.            They’ll have a fight, etc.  
                                                       
LITTON:    Forbear, nor carry out the scheme, you folk;  
        He is your D.C.I. – and you’re both blokes!

ALL.              Back, vermin, back,  
                         Nor mock us!  
                    Back, vermin, back,  
                         You shock us!       [Exit Litton

          Let's give three cheers for the D.C.I.  
          Who casts all thought of rank aside--  
          Who risks his home and career too  
          For the honest love of a policeman true!  
               For a British copper’s a soaring soul  
                    As free as a mountain bird!  
               His energetic fist should be ready to resist  
                    A dictatorial word!  
     His foot should stamp and his throat should growl,  
     His hair should twirl and his face should scowl,  
     His eyes should flash and his breast protrude,  
     And this should be his customary attitude -- (pose).

                         GENERAL DANCE


	2. Act II

                             ACT II

Same Scene.  Night.  Desks deserted.  FRANK MORGAN discovered singing, sitting on a desk, and accompanying himself on a mandolin.  SGT. DOBBS leaning in the squad room doorway, gazing sentimentally at him.

                        SONG -- MORGAN

               Fair moon, to thee I sing,  
                    Bright regent of the heavens,  
               Say, why is everything  
                    Either at sixes or at sevens?  
               I have lived hitherto  
                    Cleaning up Manchester’s messes,  
               Sniffing out every clue--  
                    Correct in all my guesses.  
               A-Division’s squad are crims,  
                    My D.I. to their Guv is loyal,  
               I want him back, but to transfer him,  
                    Has become a battle royal!  
               Fair moon, to thee I sing,  
                     Bright regent of the heavens,  
               Say, why is everything  
                      Either at sixes or at sevens?

     DOBBS.  This git’s singing ain’t bad, though nobody’s here but the moon!  Who is he pining after?  Some young, pretty plonk?  Probably!  Who is poor Phyllis Dobbs that she should expect his glance to fall on an old, tough bird!  And yet if he knew -- if he only knew!  
     MORGAN. (coming down).  Ah!  Desk Sergeant, still on duty?  That is not quite right, ma’am.  It would have been more respectable to have gone off shift with the others.  
     DOBBS.  True, D.C.I. Morgan -- but remembering your skinny arse was still moping about seemed to bother me a bit.  I thought I’d haul you to the pub and stand you a round.  
     MORGAN. Ah!  Desk Sergeant, I fear it will be a long time before I feel like drinking with the squad, for misfortunes crowd upon me, and all who should be working with me seem to have turned against me!  
     DOBBS.  Oh no -- do not say "all", Guv.  That were unjust to one, at least.  
     MORGAN. True, for you were quite helpful to me.  (Aside.)  If ever I gave my heart again, I’d want a kind, tough bird like this!  (Aloud.)  I am touched to the heart by your friendly regard for me, and were we differently situated, I think I could have returned it.  But as it is, I fear I can never be more to you than a friend.  
     DOBBS.  Oh, I get it!  You’re climbing the ranks and need somebody classy to throw parties for you.  But take care!  The poor Desk Sergeant has gipsy blood in her veins, and she can read destinies.  
     MORGAN.  Destinies?  
     DOBBS.  There is a change in store for you!  
     MORGAN.  A change?  
     DOBBS.  Aye -- be prepared!

              DUET – SGT. DOBBS and MORGAN

DOBBS.           Things are seldom what they seem,  
               Skim milk masquerades as cream;  
               Plastics pass as shiny leathers;  
               Jackdaws strut in peacock's feathers.  
MORGAN. (puzzled).    Very true,  
                                        So they do.  
DOBBS.           Black sheep dwell in every fold;  
               All that glitters is not gold;  
               Spanners jam the tightest cogs;  
               Bulls are but inflated frogs.  
MORGAN. (puzzled).    So they be,  
                                        Frequentlee.  
DOBBS.           Drops the wind and stops the mill;  
               Turbot is ambitious brill;  
               Gild the shilling if you will,  
               Yet it is a shilling still.  
MORGAN. (puzzled).    Yes, I know.  
                                            That is so.  
          Though to catch your drift I'm striving,  
                    It is shady -- it is shady;  
           I don't see at what you're driving,  
                    Mystic lady -- mystic lady.  
(Aside.)       Stern conviction's o'er me stealing,  
               That the mystic lady's dealing  
               In oracular revealing.  
DOBBS. (aside).  Stern conviction's o'er him stealing,  
               That the mystic lady's dealing  
               In oracular revealing.  
                    Yes, I know--  
                    That is so!  
MORGAN.          Though I'm anything but clever,  
               I could talk like that for ever:  
               Once a cat was killed by care;  
               Only brave deserve the fair.  
DOBBS.         Very true,  
                      So they do.  
MORGAN.     Wink is often good as nod;  
               Spoils the child who spares the rod;  
               Thirsty lambs run foxy dangers;  
               Dogs are found in many mangers.  
DOBBS.         Frequentlee,  
                           I agree.  
MORGAN.     Paw of cat brings nasty scratches;  
               Worn-out garments show new patches;  
               Only count the chick that hatches;  
               Biscuits always come in batches.  
DOBBS.         Yes, I know,  
                         That is so.  
(Aside.)   Though to catch my drift he's striving,  
                    I'll dissemble -- I'll dissemble;  
                When he sees at what I'm driving,  
                    Let him tremble -- let him tremble!

                            DUET

               Though a mystic tone I / you borrow,  
               You will/I shall learn the truth with sorrow,  
               Here to-day and gone to-morrow;  
                    Yes, I know--  
                    That is so!  
              [At the end exit SGT. DOBBS melodramatically.

     MORGAN.  Incomprehensible as her utterances are, I nevertheless feel that they are dictated by a sincere regard for me.  But to what new misery is she referring?  Time alone can tell!

Enter Hunt

     MORGAN.  D.C.I. Hunt, you were supposed to have D.I. Tyler all signed over and ready to go.  He doesn’t seem to be willing.  
     HUNT (mock astonishment).  He’s not willing, D.C.I. Morgan?  
     MORGAN.  I'm afraid not.  The fact is, that although I have urged him to rejoin our division with as much eloquence as is consistent with an official utterance, I have done so hitherto without success.  How do you account for this?  
     HUNT.  Really, D.C.I. Morgan, I hardly know.  D.I. Tyler of course understands the honor you’re bestowing on him.  
     MORGAN.  He naturally would do.  
     HUNT.  But perhaps your fancy policing procedures overwhelm him.  
     MORGAN.  You think they do?  
     HUNT.  I can hardly say; but he’s a nervous git, and still fairly new at being a D.I.  It may be that he feels he wouldn’t be useful to you.  
     MORGAN.  That is really a very sensible suggestion, and displays more knowledge of human nature than I had given you credit for.  
     HUNT.  Here he comes.  If you’ll talk to the lad and let him know officially that it is a standing rule at C-Division that men of all ranks and skills are useful, his respect for regulations might make him think about the transfer like you want him to.  
     MORGAN.  It is not unlikely.  I will adopt your suggestion.  But quiet, here he is.

Enter Sam

     MORGAN.  D.I. Tyler, it has been represented to me that you might be nervous about returning to Hyde because you do not feel your methods compatible with our procedures.  I desire to convey to you officially my assurance, that if your hesitation is attributable to that circumstance, it is uncalled for.  
     SAM.  Oh, then you are of opinion that workplace satisfaction is not inconsistent with discrepancy in policing styles?  
     MORGAN.  I am officially of that opinion.  
     SAM.  That the rough and the meticulous may be truly happy together, provided that they truly appreciate one another?  
     MORGAN.  D.I. Tyler, I desire to convey to you officially my opinion that policing is a platform upon which persons of all methodologies are useful.  
     SAM.  I thank you, D.C.I. Morgan.  I did hesitate, but I will hesitate no longer.  (Aside.)  He little thinks how eloquently he has pleaded his rival's cause!

                              TRIO

               MORGAN, HUNT, and SAM

HUNT.          Never mind the why and wherefore,  
               Love can level ranks, and therefore,  
               Although Morgan’s backing’s mighty,  
                     Though sneaky be his brain,  
               Though your attention’s sometimes flighty  
                      And you’re a real picky-pain,  
HUNT. and      Set your voices at full volume,  
MORGAN.         Send a song up to the sky,  
               For the union of my squad room  
                    With a scrawny git D.I.!  
HUNT.              For a picky little D.I.--  
SAM.                    For a loyal little D.I.--  
MORGAN.        And a spy who finds bent coppers--  
SAM. (aside).       And a Guv who leads brave coppers!  
ALL.           Let our joy be sung upon high,  
                        Rend with songs the air above,  
                   For the union of a D.I.  
                        With the man who owns his love!  
MORGAN.         Never mind the why and wherefore,  
                    Love can level ranks, and therefore,  
                           Though you’ve spent too long with this brute (alluding to Hunt)  
                    And bad habits you’ve acquired--  
                           Your evidence he can’t refute  
                    And you’ll help me get him fired!  
HUNT. and      Set your voices at full volume,  
MORGAN.         Send a song up to the sky,  
                    For the union of my squad room  
                        With a scrawny git D.I.!  
HUNT.              For a picky little D.I.--  
SAM.                     For a loyal little D.I.--  
MORGAN.        And a spy who finds bent coppers--  
SAM. (aside).       And a Guv who leads brave coppers!  
ALL.         Let our joy be sung upon high,  
                     Rend with songs the air above,  
                 For the union of a D.I.  
                    With the man who owns his love!  
SAM.           Never mind the why and wherefore,  
               Love can level ranks, and therefore  
                     I admit the jurisdiction;  
                Ably have you played your part;  
                    You have carried firm conviction  
                To my hesitating heart.  
HUNT. and      Set your voices at full volume,  
MORGAN.         Send a song up to the sky,  
               For the union of my squad room  
                    With a scrawny git D.I.!  
HUNT.               For a picky little D.I.--  
SAM.                    For a loyal little D.I.--  
MORGAN.         And a spy who finds bent coppers--  
SAM. (aside).       And a Guv who leads brave coppers!  
 (Aloud.) .           Let our joy be sung upon high.  
HUNT. And MORGAN      Set your voices at full volume--  
SAM.           For the union of a D.I.--  
HUNT. and MORGAN. For the union of my squad room,  
ALL.           Rend with songs the air above  
               For the man who owns his love!

                                                  [Exit Sam.

     HUNT.  D.C.I. Morgan, it looks like the daft git might just have bought your reasons.  Your argument was unanswerable.  
     MORGAN.  D.C.I. Hunt, it is one of the happiest characteristics of this glorious country that official utterances are invariably regarded as unanswerable.      
                     
                                                [Exit Hunt.

     MORGAN.  At last my fond hopes are to be crowned.  My D.I. is coming back, and he’ll shop this sorry lot.  The prospect is Elysian. 

(During this speech Poncy-Arse Litton has entered.)  
     LITTON.  D.C.I. Morgan --  
     MORGAN.  Litton!  You here?  Don't!  (Recoiling from him.)  
     LITTON.  Ah, don't shrink from me, MorganI.  I'm unpleasant to look at, and my name's agin me, but I ain't as bad as I seem.  
     MORGAN.  What would you with me?  
     LITTON (mysteriously).  I'm come to give you warning.  
     MORGAN.  Indeed! do you propose to leave the police force then?  
     DICK.  No, no, you misunderstand me; listen!

                              DUET

                    FRANK MORGAN and PONCY-ARSE LITTON

LITTON.          Kind Morgan, I've important information,  
                    Sing hey, the Chief Inspector that you are,  
               About a certain intimate relation,  
                    Sing hey, the Boss and Guv’nor in his car.  
BOTH.                    The Boss and Guv’nor in his car.

MORGAN.          Good fellow, in conundrums you are speaking,  
                    Sing hey, the mystic copper that you are;  
               The answer to them vainly I am seeking;  
                    Sing hey, the Boss and Guv’nor in his car.  
BOTH.                    The Boss and Guv’nor in his car.

LITTON.          Kind Morgan, your young D.I. is a-sighing,  
                    Sing hey, the simple D.C.I. you are,  
               This very night with Gene Hunt to be lying;  
                    Sing hey, the Boss and Guv’nor in his car.  
BOTH.                    The Boss and Guv’nor in his car.

MORGAN.          Good fellow, you have given timely warning,  
                    Sing hey, the thoughtful copper that you are,  
               I'll talk to Hunt and Tyler in the morning:  
                    Sing hey, the Board of Inquiry’s not far.

BOTH.          The Board of Inquiry’s not far!

     MORGAN.  Poncy-Arse Litton -- I thank you for your warning – I will at once take means to arrest those sodomites.  This opera cloak will afford me ample disguise -- So!  (Envelops himself in a mysterious cloak, holding it before his face.)  
     LITTON.  Ha, ha!  They are foiled -- foiled -- foiled!

Enter Squad, Annie, and Sgt. Dobbs on tiptoe, with Hunt meeting Sam

                        ENSEMBLE

               Carefully on tiptoe stealing,  
                    Staying out of Morgan’s way,  
               Every step with caution feeling,  
                    We will softly steal away.

                   (Morgan stamps) -- Chord.

ALL (much alarmed). Goodness me--  
                         Why, what was that?  
LITTON.               Silent be,  
                             It was a rat!  
ALL. (reassured).   It was -- it was a rat!  
MORGAN. (producing a tape recorder).    They're right; it was a rat!

ALL.        To the pub for drinking steady,  
                     Everyone will buy a round,  
               When the whisky’s made them ready  
                     Sammy’s mattress they will pound!

                 (Stamp as before, and Chord.)

ALL.           Goodness me,  
                    Why, what was that?  
LITTON.          Silent be,  
                       Again a rat!  
ALL.           It was again that rat!  
MORGAN. (aside). They're right; it was a rat!

MORGAN. (throwing off cloak). Hold!  (All start.)  
               Planted D.I. of mine,  
                    I insist upon knowing  
                    Where you may be going  
               When the sun does not shine,  
                For this ridiculous crew,  
                    Who have broken police rules many,  
                     Are scarcely fit company,  
                My D.I., for you.  
SQUAD.               Now, hark at that, do!  
               We have broken police rules many,  
               We are scarcely fit company  
                    For a D.I. like you!

HUNT.         Proud Morgan, that skinny lip uncurl!  
          You ponce, wipe off that nasty sneer,  
          For I have dared to love Sam like a girl,  
          A fact well known to all my squadron here!

MORGAN.     Oh, horror!

HUNT and SAM. I, / A man, loud, drunk, and short on tact,  
               The meanest sod in A Division--  
               Who treats gut instinct as fact--  
               Which has earned me / him your derision--  
               Have / Has dared to raise my / his bleary eyes  
               And asked my / his love to hold me / him.  
               My / His manhood's glorious pride does rise,  
               I am / He is a Policeman -- behold me / him!

ALL.           He is a Policeman!

CHRIS.     He is a Policeman!  
               For he himself has said it,  
               And it's greatly to his credit,  
              That he is a Policeman!

ALL.      That he is a Policeman!

CHRIS.       For he might have been a roofer,  
               A cook, or dance-hall hoofer,  
               Or perhaps a rubbish-man!

ALL.            Or perhaps a rubbish-man!

CHRIS.          But in spite of all temptations  
               To try out others’ stations,  
                       He remains a Policeman!

ALL.           For in spite of all temptations, etc.

MORGAN. (trying to repress his anger).  
               In uttering a reprobation  
                    To any British cop,  
               I try to speak with moderation,  
                    But you are over the top.  
               I'm very sorry to disparage  
                    Love between lad and lad,  
               But to behave as if joined in marriage,  
                    Why dammit, it's too bad!

ALL (shocked).      Oh!  
MORGAN.          Yes, dammit, it's too bad!  
ALL.                     Oh!  
MORGAN. and LITTON.  Yes, dammit, it’s too bad.

SAM rushes to HUNT's arms

     SAM.  Darling!  (Morgan horrified.)  
     HUNT.  He is the hot coffee on my stake-out of life – the street lamp shining on the door of my pub of happiness -- the rarest, the oldest single-malt that ever sparkled in a poor but worthy bloke’s tumbler!  
     ALL.  Very pretty, very pretty!  
     MORGAN.  Mouthy, bent copper, you shall repent this outrage.  Seize him!  
(Two of the squad seize him and handcuff him.)  
     SAM.  Oh, D.C.I. Morgan, spare him, for I love him tenderly.  
     MORGAN.  Pray, don't.  I will teach this presumptuous copper to discipline his affections.  Have you such a thing as a cell in this station?  
     ALL.  We have!  
     LITTON.  They have!  
     MORGAN.  Then handcuff him and take him there at once!

                            OCTETTE

HUNT.           Farewell, my own,  
                            My Sammy-boy, farewell!  
                       For loving one of my own  
                            I go to a prison cell.

SAM.              I will atone.  
                            In the meantime farewell!  
                        And all alone  
                            Rejoice in your prison cell!

MORGAN.     A bone, a bone  
                            I'll pick with this copper fell;  
                       Let him be shown at once  
                            At once to his prison cell.

            CHRIS, LITTON, and ANNIE

                    He'll hear no tone  
                         Of the D.I. he loves so well!  
                    No telephone  
                         Communicates with his cell!

DOBBS. (mysteriously).     But when is known  
                         The secret I have to tell,  
                            Wide will be thrown  
                         The door of his prison cell.

ALL.               For loving one of his own  
                           He goes to a prison cell!  
                              [HUNT is led off in custody by RAY.

MORGAN.         My pain and my distress  
                    It is not easy to express.  
                    My amazement, my surprise,  
                    You may discover from my eyes.

ALL.                How terrible the aspect of his eyes!

DOBBS.            Oi!  Ere upon your loss  
                             You lay much stress,  
                              A cover-up of mine  
                                I would confess.

                       SONG – SGT. DOBBS

                         A many years ago,  
                    Before I worked this station,  
                    As some of you may know,  
                         I ran Examinations.

ALL.                Now this is a sensation!  
                    Before she worked this station,  
                    She ran Examinations,  
                         A many years ago.

DOBBS.                Two Detective Exams I clerked:  
                         One was of perfect condition,  
                         The other, failing marks --  
                               A sorry situation.

ALL (explaining to each other).  
                        Now, this is the position:  
                    One was of perfect condition,  
                    The other a bad situation,  
                         A many years ago.

DOBBS.                 Oh, bitter is my cup!  
                            However could I do it?  
                       I mixed those test scores up,  
                           And not a copper knew it!

ALL.                However could you do it?  
                    Some day, no doubt, you'll rue it,  
                    Although no copper knew it,  
                          So many years ago.

DOBBS.                Each man set on his way  
                            His path unlike his brother’s.  
                             The perfect test was Ray’s--  
                              Frank Morgan’s was the other!!!

ALL.                One career was made, one smothered,  
                              The one was Ray, our brother,  
                               Frank Morgan’s was the other,  
                                      A many years ago.

     SAM.  Then I am to understand that D.C.I. Morgan and D.S. Carling should be in each other’s positions -- that Carling is really the D.C.I., and Morgan is a D.S.?  
     DOBBS.  That about covers it!  
     SAM.  Christ!  We’d better sort this mess!

[RAY enters dressed in a 3-piece suit and a trenchcoat,, HUNT  follows,  SAM relieves Morgan of his coat, jacket, etc. until he is in shirtsleeves, and loosens Morgan’s tie.

     ANNIE.  My Guv -- a common D.S.!  
     MORGAN.  It is hard, is it not, my dear?  
     HUNT.  This is a damn queer coincidence; congratulations, Raymundo.  I expect you to go back to Hyde, and whoever else that sneaky bastard really works for, and keep them off our arses.  
     RAY.  Absolutely, Guv… I mean, Gene.  
     HUNT. Desire that remarkably fine detective to step forward.  
     RAY.  Morgan.  Get yer sorry arse up here!  
     MORGAN.  If what?  
     RAY.  If what?  I don't think I understand you.  
     MORGAN.  If you please.  
     HUNT.  The git is quite right.  If you please.  
     RAY.  Oh!  If you please.  (Morgan steps forward.)  
     HUNT (to MORGAN).  You are an extremely fine fellow.  
     MORGAN.  Yes, Guv.  
     HUNT.  So it seems that you were Ray, and Ray was you.  
     MORGAN.  So it seems, Guv.  
     HUNT.  Well, I need not tell you that after this change in your condition, transferring my D.I. will be out of the question.  Oh, and you can’t have the plonk to wait on you hand and foot no more, neither.  
     MORGAN.  Don't say that, Guv – being a man levels all ranks compared to women.  
     HUNT.  It does to a considerable extent, but it does not level them as much as that.  (Handing Annie to Ray.)  Here -- take her, Ray, and mind you treat her kindly.  It don’t do to abuse the plonks.  
     RAY and ANNIE.  Oh bliss, oh rapture!  
     HUNT. and SAM.  Oh rapture, oh bliss!  
    MORGAN. Sad my lot, and sorry.  What shall I do?  I cannot learn a new division’s rules alone!  
     DOBBS.     Guess what – I’ll be dogging your every step.  We’ll make a proper D.S. of you in no time.  
     MORGAN.    No, don't do that.  
     DOBBS.        You can’t keep me from it--  
     MORGAN (resigned).   To-morrow morn our vows shall all be plighted,  
              Three loving pairs on the same day united!

                           QUARTETTE  
              ANNIE, DOBBS, HUNT, and SAM

               Oh joy, oh rapture unforeseen,  
               The clouded sky is now serene,  
               The god of day -- the orb of love,  
               Has hung his ensign high above,  
                    The sky is all ablaze.

               With wooing words and loving song,  
               We'll chase the lagging hours along,  
               And if I find the copper coy,  
               We'll murmur forth decorous joy,  
                    In dreamy roundelay.

MORGAN.          For he's the Guv’nor of the C.I.D.  
ALL.           And a right good guv’nor too!  
MORGAN.               And though before my fall  
                    I had planned to shop you all,  
                    I'm here working now for you.

ALL.                Although before his fall, etc.

MORGAN.          I shall marry with a wife,  
               In my humble rank of life!  (turning to Dobbs.)  
                            And you, my own, are she--  
               I must wander to and fro;  
                            But wherever I may go,  
               I shall never be untrue to thee!  
ALL.                What, never?  
MORGAN.                    No, never!  
ALL.                What, never!  
MORGAN.                    Hardly ever!  
ALL.                Hardly ever be untrue to thee.  
               Then give three cheers, and more cheers three  
                   For the new D.S. right here in C.I.D.

DOBBS.           For he loves the front Desk Sergeant, dearest of Desk Sergeants,  
                   Though I could never tell why;  
                   But still he loves Desk Sergeant, poor little Desk Sergeant,  
                        Sweet Little Desk Sergeant, aye!  
ALL.                 For he loves, etc.  
     
RAY.                I’ll lead Hyde’s C.I.D.,  
                    And when I'm alone with thee (to ANNIE),  
                I'll be downstairs and inside every time I get a chance,  
ANNIE.    Then good-bye to my uniforms, and my bras, and my pants,  
                       Especially my bras,  
                       Which hide my figure flaws,  
                   My uniforms, and my bras, and my pants!

ALL.        For he is a Policeman,  
                    And he himself hath said it,  
                    And it's greatly to his credit  
               That he is a Policeman!

                            CURTAIN


	3. Author's Notes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is whom and what I did and sometimes why I did it.

_**C.I.D. Manchester -- Author's Notes**_

 

Probably only of interest to those who already know _HMS Pinafore_.  I used [this libretto](http://math.boisestate.edu/gas/pinafore/libretto.txt).

 

  
Casting:

  

  1. The role of Captain Corcoran is played by Gene Hunt.
  

  2. Ralph Rackstraw's part is played by Sam Tyler.
  

  3. Sir Joseph Porter is played by Frank Morgan.
  

  4. Nobody plays Josephine.  That's right -- lead female, gone. Poof.
  

  5. Annie Cartwright ended up playing Cousin Hebe, who is the lead in Sir Joseph's entourage of females, aka the women's chorus.  Oh -- they're gone, too.
  

  6. Little Buttercup is played by Phyllis Dobbs.
  

  7. Ray Carling and Chris Skelton play the various crew roles, in no particular order.
  

  8. Litton has been given the epithet "Poncy-Arse" and plays Dick Deadeye.  The fact that he works for RCS doesn't have any bearing in the play.
  

Script:  


  

  1. The lines for the Captain, Josephine, and Ralph Rackstraw are sometimes swapped in a scene, as appropriate to Sam and Gene.  Gene gets Josephine's part most of the time, unless Morgan (Sir Joseph) is on stage with Sam.  You think you're confused -- try working it out while under the influence. *doped-up grin*
  

  2. Many of the lines and lyrics are unchanged.  Sir William was a rhyming genius; who am I to blow against the wind?
  

  3. Gene's and Phyllis' lines have been changed to speak (mostly) in the vernacular.  Everybody else gets to speak in the original florid prose.
  

  4. The first act is nearly intact; "Gaily tripping" was cut because there is no women's chorus, there's a verse missing from "I am the monarch of the sea," and a bit of Dick Deadeye's doom-saying is gone, including "Shall we submit?" between the chorus and him.
  

  5. The second act is chopped a bit more; gone are "The hours creep on apace" and the section where the Captain gets tossed in the brig for swearing and Ralph explains to Sir Joseph why it happened.  In fact, the swearing doesn't enter into the plot any more, because the Captain and Ralph are both played by Gene there, and I could only clap him in irons once.
  

  6. Because the Captain is now half of the lead couple, Morgan (Sir Joseph) gets a large portion of his lines and most of his lyrics in the second act.
  

  7. Almost all the men's roles get swapped around after "A many years ago."  Don't try to figure out who's playing whom; just go with the flow.  It took me two days to arrange it; it works, so don't strain your brain.
  

  8. Ray was chosen to be part of the big reveal because of his age and rank.
  




End file.
